


I Will Buy You A New Life

by Lucifer_Winchester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Homeless, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Child Abuse, Young!Dean, homeless!dean, older!Castiel, teenage!Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-31
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 15:49:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1161632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucifer_Winchester/pseuds/Lucifer_Winchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester has been living, homeless, in New York for a month, slowly learning the way things worked for people like him along with his friend, Lucifer, who seemed have been living on the streets for a while. Learning about the twist and turns of the streets, and what people do to keep themselves alive, Dean runs into Castiel Novak, a rich man, working at Innovative Inventions. With just a bottle of water, the man seems to become more and more part of his life, indefinably making it worse and better than he could have ever possibly hoped for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New York, New York

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfiction is inspired by Everclear's "I Will Buy You a New Life," and "Theories of Relativity" by Barbara Haworth-Attard

Life for Dean Winchester, it seemed, could never give him a break. Karmah must have it out for him, he thinks, since he had been given the worst hand in his life in the weeks prior. While he hated to complain, it seemed nearly impossible to not feel sorry for himself as he sat in the train station, his back leaned against the cold wall, a cup in his hand, which contained a few coins, even a few paper dollars. It had been a few weeks since his father kicked him out, thinking him too much of a burden to keep around. He had stopped trying to live up to his father expectations a long time ago, seeing as no matter what he did, he was always wrong. It wasn’t being thrown to the side that bothered him, no, it was not getting being able to his little brother, Sam. He wasn’t so small anymore, but the last thing he wanted was him to fall victim to his father’s drunken rage, which he had tried his best to shelter him from through the years.

Dean is pulled from his pity when he feels his styrofoam cup kicked from his hands, the little change that was in it being scattered across the ground. The boy looks up, his feet moving quickly to propel himself towards the money, which was being kicked away from him by the ignorant people around him. He picks up some of quarters, stuffing it into his pocket furiously, as he had lost his cup. He moves back to his spot, counting the money he had saved. Only three dollars, he thinks miserably, slumping against the wall. He had hoped to be able get enough money for a burger, at the McDonalds, which was near the station.

He feels a body collapse next to him, leaning over his shoulder. Moving away a bit, he looks to see Lucifer, a boy he had met his first week in the city. His dirty blonde hair hung low over his eyes, causing him to push it away every few seconds, so he could see. The two had met each other on Dean’s second day, where he ran into the blonde, when he was especially out of it, high Dean was able to figure out later on in the night. After he helped him come down, bringing him back to reality, Lucifer insisted to help the younger boy, saying that he could tell a runaway when he saw one. Dean wasn’t in the business of turning down his help, as he didn’t really know what he was going to do at the time. Through out the weeks, Lucifer has helped him, finding the best places to get money, places to sleep where he would be in the less danger, and gained the other’s friendship, both of them glad to have someone they could depend on..

“Hey Dean,” he says, flicking his hair fruitfully from his eyes, “Hungry?” His hands are shoved in front of his face, revealing two hotdogs. Dean’s mouth water, taking one of them wordlessly, taking a bite into it. He had learnt early on not to ask where Lucifer got his food or money from. On some days, he would have a couple hundred dollars, easily, which he liked to split with Dean, but neither of them ever talked about the methods in which he earned the money, knowing it was better to keep silent about it. Though he tries to make the hotdog last longer, but he scarfs it down in a few seconds, his stomach grumbling for more. Lucifer pats his back, his arm resting on his shoulders.

“Thanks, Luc,” Dean says, his voice gruff as he speaks, having spent most the day silent as he collected coins, which were all gone, now.

“Of course,” Lucifer says, standing up, pulling Dean by his hood to do the same, “Train sound good?” he asks, pushing the blonde hair from his eyes again. Dean nods, following Lucifer as he looks for the police, or any workers before jumping the turn aisle, Dean following closely behind. They only wait a little bit before boarding onto a train, neither caring too much where it took them. The two sit down on the seats, next to a women who grimaces as she looks at them. This happened a lot, Dean had come to learn, when they ever got on the train.

“Done anything today?” the other asks, pulling him from his train of thought, which always seemed to invade his mind.

“Not really, just sat at the station, but some asshole passed by, and now I only have three dollars,” he says, frowning at his friend, who nods in response.

“That happens sometimes,” he says simply, leaning back into the seat, getting comfortable. Dean sighs frustrated, Lucifer was being distant, his fingers messing nervously with the strand coming from his jeans. He could tell what he wanted, and hoped that the feeling would pass soon.

As it was late, there were few people on the train, a couple of them asleep. It didn’t take long for the woman next to them to move, Lucifer stretching his legs out as soon as he did so, resting his head on Dean’s legs. This often happened, when neither of them wanted to move to a safer place. Dean rests his hand on Lucifer’s chest, feeling the slow moving under his rough palm. The blonde often worried him, disappearing for days, before finding him again. Being in a city which he had only ever visited once with his family, it was comforting someone who looked after him. Dean feels the change as Lucifer falls asleep, something that wasn’t going to happen to him anytime soon.

He moves out carefully from under him, setting his head on the seat softly. Finding a paper and pencil from the small bag he had with him, he leaves him a note, telling him that he is going to the corner store, hopefully to buy a drink with the little money he had salvaged. As soon as the train stops, he steps off, his feet moving automatically towards the stairs of the station. Stepping into the cool, crisp November air, he pulls his hood above his head, protecting his neck from the wind just barely. It doesn’t take long to get to the corner store, thankfully. Dean pulls the hood down, walking into the store. Instantly, he could feel the owner’s eyes on him.

He keeps his hands from his pockets, knowing how shady it could be for people like him. He moves to the drinks, not paying attention as the bell indicates that another person has entered the small shop. He pulls the largest bottle of water from the shelf, and a bag of chips. Dean didn’t check the prices, hoping that he would have enough money for both of the items. As the owner rings up his price, he can sense someone behind. He looks down at the floor, looking behind him a bit, seeing shiny black shoes, suit pants, and a peak of a tan trenchcoat. Envy burns in his stomach, wishing he could have a suit like that, or rather that he could afford a suit like that.

“Total is 5.95,” the owners says, judgemental eyes burning into his skull. Dean’s stomach sinks, grumbling a bit. He looks between the two, seeing the water was the more expensive choice. Another night of drinking at the fountain at the library, he thinks glumly, wondering if the library was even open at this time.

“Just the chips then,” he mumbles, pulling the change from his pocket, paying the shop owner, grabbing the chips quickly. He stumbles into the man behind him, looking up embarrassed. His apology is stopped as he connects with intense blue eyes, staring back at him. He shoves the chips into his pocket, still looking down at the shorter, yet older man. “I-uh, sorry,” he says, stumbling over his words as he brushes past the dark haired man. He walks back into the cold, pulling the hood over his head. His feet move quickly to the station, hoping he would be able to find Lucifer quickly. He’s stopped in his tracks as a voice calls for him, foot steps chasing after him.

Though his first instinct is to bolt down the street, but he glances behind him first to see the well dressed man from the shop walking down the sidewalk towards him. Dean stops in his tracks, watching as he comes closer, staying tense in case he needs to bolt. The man stops, his black hair slightly askew. Even in the dark, his eyes burn brightly, almost hypnotising him.

“Here,” he says, in a surprisingly deep voice. In his hand, he holds two large bottles of water, just like the one he tried to buy in the store. Dean takes the bottles, looking up gratefully. He almost felt bad to be taking them, but if Lucifer had taught him anything, it was to never deny what people gave you.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, moving to put them in the little sack that he kept on his back, under his jacket. The older man nods, watching for a moment. He sidesteps to the corner, holding up a hand for a taxi, which comes soon enough. “Have a good night,” he says, opening the door and climbing into the taxi, which drives away quickly.

Dean begins to walk away, the thought of bright, strangely familiar blue eyes stuck in his head. He shakes the thought from his head, walking back to the station, where Lucifer would probably would be waiting for him, as he always seemed to find him, one way or another. Walking into the station, the familiar weight of Lucifer jumping into him, laughing gleefully. He looks at his friends, whose eyes were wide, and dilated. His heart sank a bit, glancing at the boy’s arms, though thankfully seeing no new marks.

“You’re very pattern-y today, Deanny Pie,” he giggles, his arm wrapping around his shoulders, leaning against him. Dean forces a smile, wrapping an arm around his waist protectively, pulling him up the stairs, down the street. He wasn’t surprised by his friend’s state, merely disappointed. He was gone for twenty minutes, with the time it took to walk there and back, so of course Lucifer would be able to find someone to help him with his problem, but Dean had foolishly hoped that the other would refrain from getting high again.

Dean looks over his friend for a moment, his hands  on his shoulders,  hoping he hadn’t hurt himself in the time he was gone. Lucifer furrows his eyebrows, the mischievous look in his eyes gone now as he looks at Dean back worried. “Everything alright?” he asks, crossing his arm and resting it on Dean’s shoulder. Dean nods, the smile being, forced to his lips, reminding him of the times he would do the same thing for his father, “Peachy,” he replies, throwing his arm over Lucifer’s shoulder, causing the other relax into his side as they walk down the road.

Dean pulls him in the direction of a church, which sometimes let in the homeless, especially on cold nights like this. Lucifer clenches onto his shoulder, pushing his hair from his eyes. Normally, he would protest the church, always ranting on about how neither of them needed the charity of the bible thumping morons who attended it, but he was in no place to fight him on this.

“You’re such a good friend, Dean, you always got my back, man, I love you,” he says, grinning cheerfully at him. Dean smiles back at him softly, “I know buddy,” he says, his gruff voice a bit softer as he pulls him up to the church basement doors, pulling them open.

Dean lets go of his friend, pushing him down into one of the cots, where he just stares up at the ceiling. He sits on one adjacent to his, watching Lucifer carefully. His blonde hair was back, so he could see as his blue eyes moved rapidly across the ceiling, like he was watching a show. He stares at his friends eyes, which remind him of the well dressed man he had met earlier, the two eyes eerily similar. Dean’s eyes lock with a boy in the room, who’s dressed a nice polo shirt, with a neat name tag that informs him that his name is Garth, who smiles gleefully at him. He thinks of how the bright smile was so out of place for a place like this. Garth stands up, holding out a blue fleece blanket for him.

“Does your friend need one?” he asks, his accent misplaced for the city. Garth looks over at the other cot, a sort of emotion crossing his face that he couldn’t quite place Dean looks at Lucifer, whose eyes were closed, but a smile still plastered on his face. Dean licks his lips, nodding his head slowly. He takes the blanket from Garth, his hands rubbing over the stitched letters proclaiming PROPERTY OF ST JOHN’S CATHEDRAL. He opens the blanket, throwing over Lucifer, who wraps his fingers around the corner of it. He sighs, sitting down on the cot again, holding his head in his hands.

Garth watches him, smoothing his polo nervously. Dean looks back at him, looking at his get up. Suddenly, he is aware of his own attire, the baggy black jeans that he had found in the dumpster, since he had come to the city in basketball shorts, along with an equally dirty Led Zeppelin shirt, and a leather jacket, with a hoodie underneath it, which he had stolen from a thrift shop on a particularly cold night. Garth looks away, “Feel free to go to sleep, you’re good here” he says, voice still cheery, walking towards the desk, where the volunteers sat, to make sure the visitors didn’t steal anything.

He lays down in the bed, his eyes too looking up at the ceiling, but not seeing the amazing things his friend was. Dean closes his eyes, still thinking about the man, not too many people would be that kind to a dirty kid, such as himself. During his month living,on the streets, no one had bought him anything. He appreciated the gesture, but felt there was an ulterior motive behind it. He closes his eyes, turning on to his front, face burying into the cot, the material scratching against his face. A part of him told him he was silly for worrying, it was a mere act of kindness, but his experience over the last month told him kindness like that didn’t happen to the homeless of New York, not without a price. He forces himself to relax, falling into a sleep that didn’t last long, his dreams quickly turning into nightmares.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His sleep is cut short as he feels a hand shaking him awake gently. For a second, he almost tricks himself into thinking it’s Sam, waking him up so they can get ready for school together, but opens his eyes to see a more calm Lucifer, his blue eyes seething with a quiet anger that he managed so well. Dean smiles weakly at him, making a mental note not to ever cross the smaller boy.

“Let’s go,” he says, pulling him up by the wrist, and out the door, with only a little struggle. Dean glances back, seeing Garth standing in the doorway, looking as Lucifer continued to drag him far away from the church.

“We don’t go to that damn church,” he started, not trying hard to keep the anger from his voice. “In fact, we don’t even go to that part of town, how many times do I have to repeat it to you!” Dean sighs, having heard the rant before. Frankly, he couldn’t see why Lucifer insisted upon staying away from that area, it was near a large building, for a cooperation most likely, the dicks in suits loved to pretend they cared people besides themselves, so they would often throw Dean some change, he even got a twenty on a lucky day. He was sure to go there a bit later in the week, when Lucifer left to wherever he went to in the day.

Thankfully for Dean, it didn’t take long for Lucifer to run off, telling him he would see him later. As he drank from the bottle he received yesterday, he walks to the part of town that was apparently forbidden. He looks up at the buildings, trying to decide which would be better for his luck. He settles down in front of a building which seemed to be made out of glass. He looked into his bag, pulling out a slightly torn beanie, resting it beneath his feet, his thumb hooked on the inside.

He thanked the Lord that the sun was shining, but was disappointed that it seemed to shine only on him, the light blinding him nearly as he sat there, his face looking at the ground as he waited for the lunch rush to pass by him, as that was one of the best times of the day to collect money.

Dean waited an hour before people started to pile out of the building, most of them passing without giving him a second glance, though some of them tossed coins into the hat. He was pleased at the sound they made, thinking he would be able to have enough money to buy himself some more food. He surprised as a twenty falls into the hat, his body being shaded for a moment. He looks up at the man who gave it to him, once again locking with intense blue eyes.

“Thank you,” he says, pushing the bill farther into the hat as so it wouldn’t fly away. The man nods, glancing as people passed him, glancing back at the two.

“Do you need any food?” he asks, the deep grumble still surprising coming from a small man. Dean begins to shakes his head, starting to hold by the hat with money in it. “Really, I insist, there’s a little sandwich shop not far from here, come on.” He begins to walk away, his pace a bit slow, waiting for Dean to follow. He stands up, shoving the hat back into his bag as he follows him, his shoes slapping against the concrete.

Neither of them speak as they walk to the restaurant, the blue eyed man only breaking the silence in the shop, asking him what he would like to eat. Dean shrugs, still not looking up at him, “Anything, really,” he says, feeling his mouth water at the smell of the food as the door to the kitchen opens.

After placing an order, the man finds a table to sit at, where Dean’s follows him hesitantly. He stands awkwardly for a moment, his fingertips grazing the side of the table, playing with the black plastic edge that was there. “Feel free to sit down,” he says, removing his trench coat, to reveal a tight fitting suit. He sits down into the seat, thankful to sit somewhere that was comfortable for once.

Again, a silence fills the space around them as they wait for their food, with Dean staring down at his hands. He can feel the other’s eyes on him, but doesn’t look up until the two plates arrive. Without even waiting, he picks the burger laid out in front of him, digging his teeth into the patty. He groans a bit at the taste, his wide green eyes fluttering shut as he takes his time to chew, enjoying the taste as it lasted.

A chuckle breaks him from his moment of happiness. He swallows, taking a sip of the glass by his plate. “Sorry,” he mumbles, placing the burger down to pick up one of the fries on his plate. He looks at the other burger, uneaten on it’s plate. “Are you not gonna eat that?” he asks, looking up cautiously at the older man.

“No, no, it’s for you,” he says, his eyes smiling at him though his mouth did not.

“Awesome,” he says, taking another bite of his burger. It didn’t feel too wrong, it was just a couple of burgers, from someone who was more than likely make himself feel better than make Dean feel better, but he wasn’t going to complain about the free food.

“What’s your name?” the man asked suddenly, his nimble fingers spinning a straw in between his fingers. He chews slowly, wondering whether he should answer his question. Finally, after swallowing, he responds. “Dean. How ‘bout you?”

“Castiel,” he says, finally giving a name to a face, albeit a name Dean would never remember. He sticks a couple fries in his mouth, chewing them thoughtfully, beginning on the second burger, hoping to make it last longer than his first.

“I’ve never seen you sitting there before,” Castiel begins, leaning forward a bit, looking down at the plates, “But you are obviously...not new.” Dean stops his eating, looking up to a face that didn’t stare up at him. What the hell did that mean? Not new? So, as he always suspected, he looked just as much as a homeless person as he thought. He felt an anger swell in his chest, taking time to chew his food, as to not snap at him. Castiel looks up, tilting his head curiously at him, before realizing his expression.

“I mean, I just haven’t seen you around these parts,” he says hastily, his eyebrows furrowing. Dean dips his fries in ketchup, considering what Castiel said.

“Well, a friend of mine thinks it’s better to stay out of these parts,” he says, shrugging one of his shoulders. Castiel sat up a bit straighter, pressing a hand down his tie.

“I see. How long have you been in the city,” he asks, his tone cautious.

Dean leans back, having finished with both of the plates. Why didn’t this guy want to shut up? He didn’t like his privacy being invaded some dude, who probably didn’t even remember him from the night before, a self centered dick like all the other guys that come from buildings like that.

“Well, I don’t know, been homeless about a month now,” he says, the words coming out harsher than he intended. Castiel clenches his jaw, looking away from him, to his watch. Dean regretted the words, since the man was kind enough to pay for his meal, but he wasn’t going to retract it. Castiel had never used the word, ‘homeless’, no one seemed to.

“Listen, I have to get back to work,” he says, dropping a few bills on the table for the meal. Unexpectedly, he reaches a hand forward, resting it on top of his. Dean looks at his hands, chills running down his spine at the touch.

“Just, stay safe, kid,” he says, his voice earnest. He sighs as he takes his hand off his, walking away, slipping the trench coat on as he did so.

Dean sat for a moment, his heart beating a bit faster than normal, his finger tracing over the spot where Castiel placed his hand on top of his. It was a bit of a strange feeling, he couldn’t really pin what it was. He stands up, looking out in the street from the window. The lunch rush was still going, but it had been a few hours since he had seen Lucifer, so he decided to head to one of the train stations, knowing that he would be easier to be found there.

Walking into the underground station, his eyes wander the ground, but his mind is filled with thoughts a blue eyed man named Castiel. He begins to ponder the story of a man who was willing to sit down, and buy a homeless boy a meal, with eyes that could be used to drill diamonds with their intensity, and how the eyes that he kept running into seemed like he had seen them some place before.


	2. Don't Need a Savior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being beaten by a British pimp, Dean runs into Castiel yet again, feeling ever more frustrated by him, and Lucifer's absence.

Two weeks after his lunch with Castiel, the man had become a mere memory, though on certain nights Dean couldn’t help but wonder why that man had done anything at all. He tried not to dwell, and it wasn’t a difficult feat. Nights spent fighting for a meal, or a nice place to sleep was more than enough to distract him from things that certainly didn’t mean anything at all. Why worry about something when there wasn’t a problem?

 

The only thing that truly plagued his mind was Lucifer. While he often went days without seeing him, Dean hadn’t seen the blonde since his run in with Castiel, and two weeks was a long time to be on his own. For all he knew, Lucifer was dead in some alley, and that scared him more than he could admit. He was always an independant person when he lived with his dad, but he was never alone. He had someone to always get his mind off himself for a little while, and that’s really what he had always needed after all. Dean had gotten used to Lucifer being with him, for once having someone who looked after him, looking after the addict in return.

 

There were certain perks with being by himself. Not having to wait for anybody, or have someone tell him where to go or not go, Dean decided to hop on the train, moving towards the Bronx. He heard a few things about the Bronx, knowing that Lucifer often spent time there, but always warned him not to venture there. He had always listened, he was inclined towards the “yes, sir,” “no, sir,” attitude after all, never questioning what he had been told for the longest time. But, unsupervised, the seventeen year old couldn’t help but be curious.

 

He never rode the train during the day, using it only at night for a place to crash when he could. At night, Dean would get a few dirty glances, but otherwise, he would be left to his own devices. Now, he was constantly being shoved, and pushed like he was some trash everyone hated to see. He was used to this, but still, the sick feeling it created in his stomach couldn’t be helped. His hand grips the overhead, eyes cast down at the ground, anxiously waiting for his stop to come.

 

Once it does, Dean quickly makes his way out of the station, being one of the many entering the Bronx. He looks around, making sure to keep a pace, as to not get pushed around by any more New Yorkers. Exploring the city would always take hours of his day, being able to ignore his hurt and hunger to fulfill his curiosities. As he walked further down this part of town, the number of people and quality of buildings dwindling. The tall boy keeps his head down, shoulders hunched over himself, doing anything to seem unimportant, and hidden.

 

Wandering in a sketchy part of time was even sketchier when the sun went down, leaving only broken streetlamps, and the white noise of New York. Dean looks in vain for a safe place to rest, finally just giving up and going to the place where he thinks he would have the least chance of being mugged. Walking down the alley, he makes sure no one else had the same idea as him, and then settled behind a dumpster, huddling into himself against the cold that stung his cheeks. Resting his eyes for a while, Dean still kept vigilant, not wanting to be blindsided. It was a few hours after drifting in and out of sleep when he heard the scuff of someone’s feet dragging against the ground. He tenses, holding in his breath as the sound echoes down the alley, getting closer and closer to him. Despite his efforts to seem invisible, the person was still able to notice him. It was almost as if they already knew he was there.

 

“My, my, what have we here,” says the voice, the accent undoubtedly british. Even in the dark, Dean could see the smirk the man wore. Dean stays in his spot, jaw clenching as he keeps his silence. “Now, don’t be scared, why don’t you stand up.”

 

“I’m not scared,” he says, quick to anger as he stands up, easily towering over the other, but still feeling so small in front of the other, his back against a wall. The other tilts his head, a small chuckle that makes his fists clench with fury, trying to contain his anger.

 

“Of course you’re not, big, strong, young man, you’re never scared,” he drawls, taking a step closer to him, head tilting up to meet his Dean’s eyes. “But, you must be cold,” he continues, a hand touching his face, causing the taller boy to tense up again, not making a peep, “If you need a place to stay, I can help you. Quite a few boys and girls stay under my care. Of course, you’d have to pay me back, but I’m sure we could work something out.” The man’s hand has moved to his chest, a smirk coming to his lips before pulling the hand away, into his pocket. “What do you say?”

 

“Fuck off,” he says, voice low and rough, despite the fear that fills his heart. To further prove his stance, Dean spits down at the other, hitting the side of his face, dripping down to his black suit. The brit’s face drops, an anger coming to the other side that put his own to shame. He would cower if he weren’t so stubborn, jaw twitching as the air grows tenser.

 

And in just a moment, the tension is broken by a swift punch to his diaphragm, causing the large boy to lean over his fist, which pushes relentlessly against his stomach. Dean is pushed against the wall, a hand pulling him up by his hair as he struggles to get a breath. “Oh, what a little boy,” the other mocks, his voice louder than it was before. The fist recoils, giving him time to suck in a breath before it was forced out against, burying furiously into him. His head is pulled off the wall just be hit back into it, a few times, before being thrown from the wall to the ground.

 

His head spins, breathing desperately as he tries to regain his composure. Before he could really regain himself, a strong kick hits his chest, throwing him to his back. Another to his ribs, drawing a short yelp. Years of being hurt in that same place left them weak. A twisted laugh comes from the smaller man as he kicks in the same place over, and over again. Tears brim on his eyes before the other finally eases up, standing over him like a predator over his prey.

 

“Little boy,” he repeats, stepping over Dean, continuing down the alley, as if beating up him was merely an after thought.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Over the next several hours, Dean comes in and out of consciousness, having only enough strength to drag himself out of the center of the alley, leaning against the cold wall. He puts a hand to his ribs, certain they were broken as he lets out a short yelp, forcing himself to sit up. I’m going to die he thinks, feeling the back of his head, a large welt forming. He tries to stand up, but falls to his chest as soon as both his feet were against the ground. He groans, still fading in and out of reality.

 

What seemed like just hours for Dean were actually days, five going past before he was found.

 

“Oh my god!” it was that distinctive southern voice, the one from the church. The name escaped the beaten boy. The sound of footsteps towards him makes his cower against the dumpster, but it didn’t matter, the other kneels next to him. Dean groans as he puts a hand to his neck, holding up his head. Anything he was saying didn’t really register with him, only white noise. After a few minutes, the southern boy pulls him up, much to the screaming protest of Dean and his ribs.

 

“It’s okay,” he says over him, the words finally finding meaning. “You’re gonna be fine.”

 

After getting Dean into the back seat of the other’s car, despite much arguing, and they drove across town, back to the church where he and Lucifer had spent a night.

 

Hours were spent assessing his injuries, the volunteers at the church made him stay, not wanting an injured and concussed boy wandering Manhattan. Despite the anger he had with himself for taking handouts, Dean enjoyed the luxury of the place. Having the first hot shower he had in months was worth whatever religious bullshit he had to put up with.

 

Out of all the things he expected to see at the church, Castiel was certainly not one of them. It was his voice that had awoken him from his deep sleep, the dull thunder filling the room, accompanied by the not so cheery voice of Garth, which was odd in itself.

“I thought he had been with Lucas,” Castiel says, his back turned to Dean. His head tilts, wondering what he could have been talking about.

 

“That’s what I thought, but he was in that alley all alone. If Lucas had been there with him, he wouldn’t have even been in the Bronx,” Garth replies. So, they were talking about him, but that caused even more confusion. He didn’t know any Lucases, and why would Castiel even care? As Castiel turns, Dean tries to cast his head down, as if he were asleep, but the two already saw him.

 

“Morning!” Garth says, his cheery composure coming back to him as he paces towards the other, sitting on the cot across from him. Dean sits up, rubbing his face and pushing a hand through his hair. He glances over at Castiel, who watches him with a worried expression. Awkwardly, Dean looks away, smiling at Garth. They had become something of friends over the past week, finding that Garth wasn’t much older than himself, making small talk that made his healing all the better.

 

Both the men looked at Dean, as if they were waiting for him to say something. He stands up, rubbing his cracked rib with his thumb. What was he supposed to say? Whose Lucas? Why do you keep following me? Why do you even care?

 

“What are you doing here?” he finally asks, looking at the blue eyed man, who stares back at him. Castiel briefly glances at Garth before locking eyes with Dean again. Without a word, Garth stands up, giving Castiel a pat on the back before leaving the room.

 

“Look, I’m sure you have a lot of questions, but I don’t want you to push yourself,” he says, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder to push him into the cot, “But let me ask my questions first.” Castiel sits down next to him, their shoulders pressing together. As the last time they met, silence filled the room, Dean looking away as Castiel stares at him.

 

“Cas-”

 

“What kind of idiot are you?” he cuts him off, causing Dean to look at him. He opens his mouth again to speak, but yet again, Castiel cuts him off, “What kind of kid goes to one of the worse parts of town and decides to play it rough with a thug?” He stands up, taking a couple of steps forward, rubbing a hand over the black scruff on his face.

 

“I didn’t mean to be propositioned,” Dean snaps, standing up as well, “If you think I meant to go get the shit beaten out of me, you’re a bigger idiot than I am.”

 

“Has L-Has no one ever told you that there are just parts of town that are far too dangerous for you?” he says, voice raising. “It’s like you were trying to get yourself killed.”

 

Dean tenses his jaw, hands curling into fists at his side. “Why do you even care?” he yells back at him, “You don’t even know me, you’re just some fucking corporate douchebag trying to make himself feel better by comforting some poor kid!”

 

Castiel glares at the younger boy for a moment, clearly trying to control his own emotions for the moment. Without a word, he walks out of the shelter, up the basement steps, into the bustling streets around him. Dean stares at the door from which he left, feeling like he should run after him to figure out what the hell just happened.

 

The room was empty besides him, since Garth didn’t come back. That’s a miracle he thinks, grabbing one of the blankets from the cot, and the few other things he could call his own, leaving the church. It was stupid, he didn’t feel all that great still, his ribs caused a pain with each large breath he drew in, but he he wanted to leave, and leave now. If he didn’t, Castiel would surely come back, and try to talk, but he certainly wasn’t one for one of those moments.

 

After spending the next few hours wandering around, regretting his decision of leaving the church, Dean makes his way make to the station he had spent plenty of nights. He hides himself in a corner behind the stairs, wrapping himself in his blanket and jackets. It was hard to sleep on the cold concrete, but that didn’t matter much, as it didn’t take very long for the boy to be woken.

 

“Dean!” yells someone into his ear, gripping his shoulder with sharp nails. He jumps, pulling back from whoever it was. Lucifer looks at him, blue eyes wide and unblinking underneath his dirty fringe. Without any warning, that he had received any before, the other hugs him, pulling Dean closely to the other male’s chest.

 

He winces a bit, sitting up as he holds onto Luc tightly. It was like his hugs with Sammy, after any of the long and horrible nights they would have. The thought, one that he had tried to avoid, causes him to hug Lucifer tighter, the smaller boy squeezing back just as hard. Finally, Dean pulls away, his green eyes going just as large.

 

“Where the hell have you been?” he asks, swallowing nervously. For once, Lucifer didn’t seem to be high, but he didn’t know what he had been doing in the few weeks prior.

 

“I’m sorry, but I had been busy, taking care of shit, alright?” he says, rocking nervously on his knees as he looks around. “But, I heard what happened, and you weren’t here, and I was worried, I had been looking for you.” His words come at him a hundred miles an hour, almost unintelligible.

 

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he reassures him, the wide eyes looking like they could cry at any moment. Lucifer studies his face, before giving him a devilish smirk.

 

“Good, now scoot, I’m tired as fuck,” he says, rubbing his neck. A dark bruise was there, one that neither talked about as they lay on the ground, using each other as pillows.

 

“Good night, Luc,” Dean mumbles, the other laying his head on his chest, using him as a pillow. The boy laying on him reminded him, of all things, of Castiel. It had to be the eyes, same blue. Or maybe it was his nickname for the other: Luc. Like Lucas. Like the boy that he had been talking about before they talked. The boy they said had a relation to him.

  
He hardly knew the man, yet he still couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was more annoying than anything, but it still made him feel a bit warm, in the pit of his stomach. Dean glances at Lucas, astonished at how his friend could look so innocent, and yet, be completely the opposite. He looks up at the stairs, forcing himself to close his eyes, and go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it has been long since I've done actual fanfiction. And this one has been sitting the back of my head for months, and now that life has finally given me a break, here is a chapter.
> 
> Edit: I forgot, feedback is appreciated!


	3. Shocking Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowly getting over his assault, Dean learns where Lucifer gets his money from, and runs to the only person he knows in the city: Castiel.

He had been in fights before, with both his peers and his father, but the injuries he got from his run in with the pimp were nothing. Dean's ribs were constantly in pain, he tried to keep his movement to a minimum, but it seemed impossible to stay in one place for two long, the police seemed to be harsher and harsher on the homeless as it got colder. As Lucifer said, it seemed like nature and society were trying to pick them off, one by one. But still, it was better than it had been before, with Lucifer around again, the boy hardly ever disappearing. It seemed that the boy felt guilty, for what Dean wasn't sure. Maybe for leaving him alone, letting him get into trouble. Regardless, he was glad for the company, not wanting to be left alone in the harsh city any longer.

"At least the bruising has gone down," Lucifer says, an almost sad look on his face. It was understandable, after all, his friend was hurt. But, it seemed to be more than that, the look on his face telling him he was hardly here at all. Of course, that was largely due to the drugs that were almost always in his system, but it had to be more than that, Dean was sure of it. Still, he knew better than to ask. 

"It'll heal, I've had worse," he says, lowering his shirt. That was a lie. With all the beatings he had received growing up, nothing had been this bad. The pimp, it seemed, had no mercy when it came to arguing boys. While he hated that it had happened, Dean has learned from it. He stayed to himself, going to only the few places he knew were safe, where he knew Lucifer would be able to find him again when he left to get his next fix. 

Many days, Dean found himself craving the same drugs Lucifer couldn't get away from, wanting to relieve the constant pain, but seeing the dreaded track marks on his friend's arm were more than enough to fend him off. Besides, as a homeless teen with barely enough money to afford food, he didn't want to think about what he would have to do if he were to get into the habit. No, it couldn't happen. He was the rock of the duo, the one who needed to make the right decisions, the right calls. But, still, Dean couldn't always make the right decisions. As smart as he may be, he hardly knew the streets, or the politics involved in being homeless. No, Lucifer made the important calls, like where to sleep, who to solicit money from. 

As his teeth chatter, pulling his leather jacket farther around him to brace against the cold, Dean asks, "Should we go to one of the homeless shelters?" Lucifer looks at him as if he were insane, pulling him further along the streets, his own hands shaking as well. 

"Are you fucking stupid? That's how we get all out shit stolen, come on, I have a place for us to go," he says, though the look he shot Dean wasn't a comforting one. Normally, Lucifer spoke in a kinder manner to Dean, treating him like a kid, just as Dean did to him, but he was clearly agitated, and desperate. Seeing the skeptical look on his face, Lucifer sighs, "Just trust me, okay, I'm gonna make sure everything's fine." Still, there was caution in his voice. Like he was afraid something might happen. But, that wasn't too worried, you'd have to be stupid not to be worried.

Walking through the streets, he noticed as the streets turned darker, into poorer areas. With a jolt, Dean realized he recognized the surroundings: the Bronx. "No," he whispers, stopping. Lucifer quickly caught on to the source of his panic, grabbing his shoulder in an attempt to ease him. 

"Hey, Dean, look, everything is going to be alright, okay?" he says. The boy nods numbly, allowing himself to be ushered along. If fear hadn't plagued him, he might have noticed that he was lying. Approaching an apartment complex, ascending the stairs, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. When Lucifer finally stopped in front of a door, he learned against the railing, breathing in the brisk air.

"Crowley, we need a place to crash, can we stay here?" he hears Lucifer ask, not bothering to turn around. He didn't want to see Lucifer beg, or the scummy person he would be forced to stay with. He couldn't hear the other's person voice, but his blood went cold when he heard what Lucifer had to stay next: "I'll turn more tricks tonight, just promise me you'll stay away from him." His legs almost shook, fists clenching. A pimp, that's who they were trying to stay with, but not just any one either. It was Lucifer's. Now, he couldn't just ignore who it was, he had to know. Turning away, he feels like the air was being knocked out of him all over again as he faces him. 

His ribs ache as their eye's connect, all the color running from his face. His attacker, who now had a name. It couldn't be him, this wasn't right.

"Hello, little boy, ready to stay the night?" the man taunts, his chin tilting up. He could see it in his face, that he too remembered what happened, the fear that he instilled in Dean. He felt tiny, in front of this man, frozen in place by the powerful gaze. He knew, that if he stayed the night, he wouldn't be leaving with his innocence in tact. Or, at least, what was left of the child inside him. 

Lucifer looks between the two, as stunned as Dean was. It seemed to happen automatically, but Dean ran. With Lucifer calling his name at his back, he continues to run, unsure if the tears in his eyes were caused by the wind, or the revelation. Thinking about it more and more, it made his limbs heavy, though that could be do to the sprinting. How could Lucifer do that to him? Try to get him to spend a night in the presence of that man, to be taunted, and broken. It was unforgivable, but what was worse was the things Lucifer tried to promise for him. The promise of more tricks for his safety. For his solitude. He knew it happened, but this was proof. He could hardly take it. 

Dean nearly collapsed next to a building, his hands on the glass walls, holding his stomach as he dried his face. He seemed to stand there what felt like hours, head hung, heart pounding, limbs heavy, before a voice called out to him, gruff, and familiar. 

"Dean, is that you? Are you okay?" Castiel calls, walking quickly towards him. Looking up, Dean realizes he had ran instinctively to the building where he first met Cas. He can hardly meet his gaze, nodding weakly, despite how very un-okay he was. Castiel, however, was smart enough to see through his lie, and puts a hand on his back, speaking gently, "Do you need a place to stay?" Dean shakes a bit under the touch, making him grow warmer in the cold. He nods, grabbing onto Castiel's wrist without thinking, using him to stand up completely. Castiel looks at him, a sad look in his eyes that seemed all too familiar. Flagging down a taxi, he ushers Dean, whispering his address to the driver. 

"Thank you," Dean says after a few minutes, his gaze out the window, voice nearly hollow. There was far too much on his mind, he couldn't forget Crowley, taunting him, attacking him, and then Lucifer, selling away his body for him. How could he let that happen, let Lucifer go to that man for protection? He didn't offer any protection, only sparked fear. He was a horrible friend, he couldn't protect anyone out here.

"Dean, please respond," Castiel's voice pierce's his thoughts, invoking a wild look from Dean. He realized that, for the last ten or so minutes, he had spaced out, not noticing Cas' existence. 

"I'm responding," he says, letting the man know he was all there, even if parts of him mind were still obsessing over Lucifer and Crowley. Castiel smiles sadly, opening his door, motioning for Dean to follow. Stepping out of the car with him, he was surprised to see a large apartment building, filled with pent houses. Looking at Castiel, he manages a weak smile as they enter the building, going to his home. "Nice place," he says as they enter, feeling as though he can't touch anything. 

Castiel looks at him sheepishly, throwing his trench coat over a chair. "Thanks, it's in the family," he says, as though he was embarrassed. Of course he was from a rich family, Dean thought a bit bitterly. But, still, he couldn't be mad. He wasn't an entitled dick about his wealth, he simply came from it. The thought, however, made him think of the last time he saw him, how they fought over his health, and the insults he fired at Castiel. Dean turns to him, a sorry look on his face.

"Thanks for this, even after, you know," he says, uneasily. Castiel allows a small smile on his face, shaking his head.

"Please, don't apologize, it was my fault," Cas says, stepping closer to him, blue eyes roaming his face. Dean felt his cheeks get a bit hot as the older man places a hand on his upper arm. "You couldn't have known what would have happened." That was a brutal reminder, of both his injures, and what made him end up here. Just for a moment, when he looked into Castiel's blue eyes, he had forgotten about Crowley, but it flooded back to him, overwhelmingly. 

It was so overwhelming, in fact, that Dean collapsed in Cas' arms, and began to cry. It clearly shocked the older man, but he held onto Dean none the less, sitting on the floor in the pent house as the teenager bawls. "Luc tried to take me to him, Cas, he tried to take me to stay with Crowley, because he works for him," he cries, knowing Cas would hardly know who any of those people were, but he needed to get it off his chest. He feels the older man's arms tense around him as he cries, the tears soaking his shirt. Slowly, but surely, he stops crying, feeling exhausted. Cas looked just as tired as he felt, blue eyes looking far off as they connect with Dean's own green eyes. 

"You should probably take a shower. You can sleep here, if you want," he says, standing up, voice just as far off as his eyes. Dean felt as if he did something wrong, but nevertheless went to take a shower. The hot water felt wonderful on his skin, weeks of grime, and dirt washing off his skin. He only left once the water turned cold, wandering into the bedroom. There, Cas was already asleep, apparently not worried that Dean might steal some of his things. Not seeing any sort of guest room, he slips into the bed beside him, the sheets feeling wonderful against his skin. He faces Cas, he had a serious expression even as he slept, and thought that he could stay here forever. Dismissing it quickly as a silly thought, he closes his eyes, finding it too easy to fall asleep. 

* * *

 

When he awoke, he rubbed his cheek against someone's cheek. It took only a moment for fear and unease to fill his stomach as he sat up abruptly, looking around wildly. It took a moment to remember the events from the night before. His heart sinks to his stomach, but looking at Cas's peaceful, still sleeping face, he finds himself smiling. Looking around the room, he notices how bare it is. He didn't seem to have much in life, except for the money he had in his family. 

Slipping out of the bed, and grabbing the few things he had, Dean allowed himself to look around the pent house a little bit more. He shoved down his guilt as he slipped some food, and other necessitates into his bag. From what he gathered from Castiel so far, he was sure he wouldn't mind. Or at least, he hoped not. Leaving the pent house, feeling a bit better, he takes the back staircase out, greeting the city prepared for another day. Out of habit, he wandered to the station he had met Lucifer in. 

As he began to sink along the wall, thinking about that day, he felt the familiar weight of a person falling beside him. He feels arms wrapping around him, squeezing so hard he felt like his ribs were about to break again. 

"Please stop, you're going to puncture a long," he manages, trying to pull away from Lucifer. The arms let him go, the blonde pushing back his ever growing hair as he stares down Dean with a desperate look. The two, for a while, just stared at each other, so many unsaid things going between them, things they didn't have to say.

"I got your back, Dean, no one is going to hurt you again," Lucifer says, voice small, child-like. It was enough to make Dean break, pulling the boy closer. Nothing, after that needed to be said, the two friends holding onto each other, ignoring the other's shaking forms. It was just the two of them, that's all they needed. The two of them against the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter went by pretty quickly, but I promise the next one will be more detailed. As my semester starts drawing closer to an end, I have a lot more free time, and I would like to continue on with this fanfic! That being said, feedback is always appreciated!


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